(Kevin, Paul and Doug are playing football in the street. They huddle up.)The '68 Jets. We had all the moves. There wasn't an imaginary team in the league that could beat us.OK...it's late in the fourth, the ball's on the six...and Oakland's up by three.(Paul frowns.)That would be Don Maynard.(Paul sneezes twice.)In Paul's case, the only wide-receiver in pro football that was allergic to grass.I want you to slant left, buttonhook, then cut the post. OK?(Paul nods. Doug gestures.)Who am I?You're Emerson Booser. You provide vital pass protection.Blocking? Again? Well, well why do I always gotta block?Cuz you're good at it! Ready...break!(Kevin tosses the ball to Doug as they walk toward the center of the street. Sound of a cheering crowd as they line up.)And the crowd's goin' wild...OK...eighty-nine! Two-hundred-thirty-five! Hut, hut, hut. Hut!(Doug snaps the ball, and Paul runs a pass pattern as Kevin back-pedals.)Joe "Willie" Namath...fades back to pass...he's looking for a receiver...(Paul runs his pattern, then looks over his shoulder with his arms outstretched.)And Maynard breaks free in the end-zone...(Doug blocks an imaginary opponent.)Oh, what a block by Booser!(Sound of the cheering crowd.)Scrambling. scrambling!He's wide open...!(Kevin throws the ball to Paul. They jump up and down.)Touchdown!

(In Kevin's room, Kevin and Paul were "negotiating" baseball cards, then get into an argument.)Total butthead! (Exits.)(Kevin looks after him.)Loser!(Kevin throws thing around his room.)Years of suppressed frustration had finally reared their ugly head.Uhhh!I was sick of it. Why did it always have to be so difficult? Why did it have to require so much effort? Why couldn't it be more like...(Sound of a knock. Kevin turns toward the sound. Doug is looking in the window and waving.Hey? Are you busy?(Kevin glances off, then smiles slightly. Cut to Doug's house. Kevin and Doug lay their bikes down in the front yard. Doug heads toward the door.)Come on in!Now, under normal circumstances...(Kevin pauses as Doug enters, and looks over his shoulder.)A visit to Doug Porter's house would have weighed in just under the dentist's office.(Kevin enters. Cut to Doug's bedroom. Doug is in the open doorway as Kevin enters slowly and glances around.)Mom! Kevin Arnold's here!These, however...were not normal circumstances.(The corner of the room is filled with shelves with lots of games, and a gumball machine.)And this was definitely not a normal bedroom.(Another corner of the room has a bed frame shaped like a sports car. Sitting on the bed are a 1/48 scale model of a B-17 airplane, three smaller fighter planes, and a large figure which appears to be a baseball player. A dart board hangs on the wall. Mrs. Porter approaches carrying a plate of donuts.)Hello, Kevin! (Smiles.)Oh - hi, Mrs. Porter. (Smiles.)Doug has told me so much about you, it's about time you came to visit. (Smiles.)Heck - maybe she was right. It was about time.Why don't I put these down right here? Can I get you boys something to drink?Sure, Mom...(Doug looks at Kevin.)Um...(Gestures.) How about Yoohoo? You like Yoohoo?Well, if it's alright with...Whatever you like, Kevin. (Smiles.)Yoohoo sounds great. (Smiles.)Yoohoo it is. (Smiles.)And suddenly, I felt like visiting royalty.Kev...want a gumball?(Kevin nods.)Yeah. This was more like it.What color? (Smiles.)Uh...how about red?Red's definitely the best.Here was a guy who would listen to what I had to say.OK - hold out your hands!A guy who treated me with a little respect.(Doug turns the handle.)Here they come!(About twenty gumballs roll out.)A fella who...appreciated me.

*

(In Doug's bedroom, they are "negotiating" baseball cards.)OK. Who do you want for your McCovey...I don't know...Yep - I was hangin' out int the heart of fun central.How about this one?Doug...(frowns)...that's a Don Schwartz.Great! (Smiles.)No. No. This is a terrible trade. (Frowns.)Sorry. (Frowns.)There was just one problem. With Paul, everything had been a struggle. With Doug...I pushed and he fell over.What if I throw in Willie Mays to sweeten it up a little? (Smiles.)No, Doug - you're missing the point. (Gestures.) You have to bargain a little bit.Oh, alright, OK...(gestures)...I'll throw in Mays and Johnny Bench! (Smiles.)It was like trying to give spine to Jell-O.OK. Let's forget about trading for right now. What do you want to do?I don't care...um, what do you want to do?Isn't there anything you want to do?W-we could eat some more. (Smiles.)(Doug takes a bite of a Twinkie and smiles. Fade to "later". Doug is standing near the shelves of toys.)It took about two hours to realize the mission was impossible.How about some Tiddly-winks? (Smiles.)Tiddly-winks? (Frowns.)Doug was looking desperate. Nothing could salvage this relationship. Short of...How about we fly my dad's model airplane?Did he say...airplane?(Cut to the street. Kevin is watching Doug fly the airplane.)OK. I knew it was wrong. Still, flying Mr. Porter's incredible expensive radio-controlled airplane...might be just the opportunity for me and Doug to forge a new bond. Or so I told myself.Doug, are you sure you've done this before? (Gestures.)All the time. Watch. I can make it do loop-the-loops. Isn't that cool?Sure, cool. But foolhardy.Listen. I think -(Kevin notices Paul and Brady approaching on bikes.)But hold on. What have we here? Old Paul just happens to ride by? On Doug's street? I think not! Well, two can play this game.Doug, come on.(Kevin reaches for the transmitter.)Let me have a shot at those controls, huh?OK...ya gotta be real careful. The stick on the left makes it go...Yeah, yeah..(Nods.)Up and down...(Gestures.)Alright, alright. (Gestuers.) I know, I know...(Kevin looks toward Paul and Brady and smils.)Looks like fun, doesn't it? Well, read 'em and weep, Pfeiffer! Tell me who's in the driver's seat, now?Kev! Look out!(The plane flies about ten feet off the ground, then into a tree. Doug puts his hands on the top of his head.)Holy cow! (Frowns.)(Paul taps Brady on the arm, mouthes "come on - let's go", and smiles. They ride off. Cut to Doug in the tree. Kevin holds the ladder.)My dad is gonna kill me. (Frowns.)Uh, it won't be that bad.No. You don't know my dad. His - his eyes bulge out like...(gestures)...like boiled eggs, and...and his forehead starts sweating...and...he scratches his neck...(gestures)...like he's gonna rip his skin off! (Frowns.)Look, Doug? Just concentrate on what you're doing, OK?You're not mad, are you? (Frowns.)I wasn't mad. I was just...tired. Of Doug...of the whole mess. Time to put and end to this. Time to make a clean break.Doug? I think that...(Sound of a tree limb cracking.)Whoa...(Kevin hurriedly ducks as Doug thuds onto the ground near him.)Oh...But speaking of clean breaks...(Cut to cafeteria. Kevin is signing Doug's cast.)Uh, gee - it looks great, Kev. (Smiles.)Thirty-three Dong Dongs, two gallons of Yoohoo...and one radio-controlled airplane had brought me to this. I was a prisoner of guilt.I can't wait to show it to everybody. (Smiles.)Yeah, sure.(Kevin frowns slightly and looks away.)My only consolation was that there were at least two other Kevin's in our class.(Doug looks over his shoulder and holds his arm up.)Hey, everybody - Kevin Arnold signed my cast! (Smiles.)(Kevin quickly looks toward Doug and grabs his arm.)Doug - Doug...(Doug sets his arm down, and his cast bangs the table.)No. Please.Sorry. (Frowns.)(Brady approaches.)Kevin? Paul has a message for you.He does?What was this?(Paul is at another table, drinking milk, then looking at a book on the table.)A little thaw in relations? A possible break in the impass?(Brady glances toward Doug and his eyes get bigger.)Whoa! What happened?!Uh, I...fell out of a tree.I had to wear one like that...(gestures)...for two months last year.(Kevin looks off and frowns slightly.)The itching drove me nuts.Tell me about it. (Frowns.) I've lost two plastic forks down there already.Try a ball-point pen.(Kevin quickly turns toward them.)Excuse me. Is there some reason you came over here in the first place?(Kevin smiles slightly and looks toward Paul.)Heh-heh. Look at him. Sittin' there, reminiscing about the good times...waiting for me to give him the nod...Oh, yeah...(Gestures.) Paul says he wants his baseball cards back.He said what? (Frowns.)Well...(gestures)...I'll see ya guys around. (Exits.)OK - that ripped it.(Kevin bangs the table and stands up.)Once and for all.Say, Kev...I was thinking...(Kevin frowns toward Paul and breathes heavily.)I couldn't believe it! The little weasel had sent his lapdog to do his dirty work?The nurse said I should find someone to help me. You know - do stuff for me around school...(Kevin is frowning at Paul and Brady.)He couldn't treat me like that.So, I was...wondering if you thought it was a good idea?Yeah - sure. (Gestures.)(Kevin frowns at Paul.)So this was what it came to. Stabbed in the back by someone who used to call himself my - hah - best friend!Great! Then you'll do it? (Smiles.)(Kevin turns toward Doug.)What?! (Frowns.)What was this guy talking about?Well, you know, um...(shrugs)...carry my books...help put on my jacket. And...maybe you could even help me with my homework...Doug! (Frowns.)Was he nuts?! Help him with his homework?! Hadn't I been humiliated enough? Who'd he think I was, anyway?Well, you are my best friend. Aren't you?Look! (Frowns.) Number one - I'm not your best friend, OK?! And number two...carry your own stupid books!(Doug frowns as Kevin slams his tray down and walks off.)Kev! (Frowns.)There. That felt better. Much better.(Cut to Kevin's bedroom. Kevin tosses and turns in bed.)That night I had a dream.(Cut to fantasy. Doug and Kevin are silhoutetted against the side of the tent. Kevin's bike and the broken model airplane lies nearby.)More like a nightmare.You want Milk Duds? You want Yoohoo?(Cut to inside the tent. Kevin sits in a waist-high pile of gumballs with his arms crossed, looking forward and frowing.)You want donuts?(Doug holds up some junk food packages.)How about Sno-balls? How about Twinkies? If I give you Twinkies, will you be my best friend? (Smiles.)Doug? (Frowns.)(Doug frowns and raises his arm as he starts to sink in the gumballs.)Ah...Kev!Doug? (Frowns.)Kev...help!(Doug disappears into the gumballs.)Doug! Doug!(Cut to reality. Kevin tosses in bed, then sits upright. His face is sweaty.)I felt awful. What had I done? He did kinda look up to me. And the truth is, I had acted, well...badly.(Cut to Doug's house. Kevin rings the doorbell.)There was only one right thing to do.(Mrs. Porter opens the door.)Oh, hi, Kevin!Is Doug around?I'm sorry...he - he can't come to the door right now. Is there something you wanted?Well, uh...I could tell by her look...that I had all but crushed him. The least I could do was show some class.(Kevin reaches into his jacket pocket and hands a baseball card to Mrs. Porter.)It's a Don Schwartz. (Smiles.) He...(nods)...likes Don Schwartz. (Smiles.)I'll make sure he gets it. (Smiles.)(Kevin turns around.)Well, there ya had it. Poor Doug - I'd let him down.(Kevin shrugs slighty and walks toward his bike.)I could almost see him...alone in his room...trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. Lamenting his fate.(Kevin holds the handlebars and seat of his bike, then looks over his shoulder toward the sound of laughter. He pauses, then walks toward the window of Doug's room and looks in. Doug and Brady are sitting on the floor, laughing, as they play a game.)Or, having the time of his life with Brady Ryland. As I stood outside that window, I watched the easy give-and-take of two new friends. And I realized something. Doug Porter was no longer the odd man out. It was me.

(Kevin recognized Mr. Cutlip as the "Santa" at the mall. Mr. Cutlip is trying to keep Kevin silent about it, and appointed Kevin to be the timekeeper in gym. Now, Kevin is walking down the hall, carrying his school books.)The next couple days in gym class, my popularity was...(Kevin turns a corner and sees Tommy, Randy and Doug.)Hey, guys.(Tommy knocks Kevin's books out of his hand.)Hey!(He leans over to pick up his books.)Teacher's pet.Not exactly at an all-time high.We should just call you Cutlip-in-training.Oh, come on, guys, it's not like that.Oh, yeah?I'm one of you.(Mr. Cutlip comes up behind Kevin, carrying his clipboard in one hand and a small bag in the other.)Pistachio, Arnold? Red ones.(He shakes the bag. Kevin looks back at the guys, who are looking at him with disgust.)Uh...(He turns back to Mr. Cutlip.)Sure.Keep the whole bag.(He hands the bag to Kevin, then walks away.)One of us, huh?(The guys walk away. Doug takes the bag from Kevin as he passes by.)

*

(In study hall, Kevin and Doug sit across from each other.)Your wrist hurt from holding the stopwatch?(Tommy walks up behind Kevin, kicks his chair, looks at him with contempt, then walks away.)The walls were pushing in all around me.Doug, this isn't my fault.Yeah, right.(He takes a bite from a candy bar.)This is ridiculous. Just 'cause I saw Cutlip working at the Brightlin Mall -You what?!Uh-oh.Forget it.You saw Cutlip in the mall?Yeah, and now my life's ruined. You happy?

*

(Kevin is getting on the bus.)I headed home, feeling pretty good about not having spilled the beans.(Kevin sees Doug in the back of the bus.)Until I remembered the beans had already been spilled.(Kevin sits next to Doug.)Doug, you can't tell anybody what I told you before.Oh. OK.You didn't, did you? (Frowns.)Well...only Randy. (Points.)(Randy and Tommy have just gotten on the bus, and sit ahead of Doug and Kevin.)So, um, what exactly does Cutlip do at the mall?Forget it.Does he sell Orange Julius?You gotta tell us where he works, Kev.No way!Well, we've got eyes. We'll, uh, we'll just go find out for ourself.Holy cow, these guys were serious. The vultures were circling, and it was all my fault. And right there, right then, I knew what I had to do.

*

(At the mall, Kevin warns Mr. Cutlip that the guys are looking for him.)Let them come if they must. (Stands.) I am who I am.I'll always remember that look on his face. He was at once heroic and stupid.Move along, Arnold.(Kevin walks away.)There was nothing more I could do. The die was cast. It was Santa's Last Stand.(Randy spots Kevin.)It's Arnold! Come on!(The guys run toward Kevin.)Look, guys...Where is he, Kev?Might as well tell us.Forget it!Fine, we're just gonna have to find him ourselves. Come on, guys, split up.I stood there, helpless, outnumbered. And that's when it happened. Doug Porter looked first, directly into the eyes of the man who had taught him gym for three long years. Then Tommy Kisling looked, too, and Randy Mitchell. Those three skeptics gazed straight at that white beard, dead into the eyes of Coach Cutlip not thirty feet away. But all that they saw...was Santa Claus.Come on, guys. Let's keep looking.

So where are the jars with the you-know-what?It's hard to tell. You know, this guidebook doesn't even say they have a fourth floor.What!? You think they'd advertise something like that? We're going to have to find it ourselves. Keep your eyes open for any unmarked doors.